Love Thy Enemy
by Warrior-Maid-of-the-Shadows
Summary: In the hierarchy of Asgard, not everything is as it seems. Among the towering cityscape and ancient ways, two outsiders stand out amidst the Aesir. One a master of mayhem & fire, the other a queen of magic & seduction. When the two collide, only chaos can result. Especially when they have the same goal. *Copyright protected; WIP; Rated M just in case*
1. Chapter One

_**Hi, readers! So, each of the chapters will be relatively shorter than what I'm used to writing, but there will be more chapters to make up for that. There will be moments when the story jumps into the past, such as this chapter, but the chapters showing the present will go in chronological order. I hope you all enjoy! :)**_

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In the valleys of Asgard, there stood a hall of obsidian by the name of Gladsheim. Thirteen high seats stood in a semi-circle one end of the hall, facing the doors on the opposite end. Each of these seats was filled, twelve men and one woman waiting for the trial to begin. There was the low hum of conversations overlapping as they quietly discussed what was to happen.

The Diar went silent as the doors opened, many of the spectators craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. Silver chains and manacles adorned her shapely figure, each piece etched with magic-restricting runes. Even in the ruins of her leather armor, she stood tall and defiant. To each of the gods within the hall, she held a different form. Some saw a woman tall and willowy, blonde hair flowing down her back. Others saw flaming red hair and skin as pale as ivory. A select few saw dark skin, sharp features, and hair black as night braided atop her head.

Her gaze rested on each and every member of the Diar in turn before falling on the one-eyed figure sitting in one of the thrones at the end of the hall. His graying dark hair was slicked back from his face, though some of it fell to frame his face. Hard features and thin lips adorned his face, along with a closed left eye. If he were to open it, the spectators would find it hollow and ghastly. Two ravens perched on either side of the back of his seat, remaining motionless and silent. He met her gaze evenly, as if attempting to silently tell her he was in command. She smirked in reply.

The guards watching over her and holding her chains came to a stop before the throne. She turned her gaze to the guards, chuckling softly at their visible discomfort. They were terrified of her, she knew, and of what she was capable of. The woman looked around at the Diar once more before returning her attention to the man in the throne with raised eyebrows.

"Going to such trouble all for me?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm and venom. "I must say, Odin, I am touched. You put a good deal of effort into this."

"Gullveig," the man, Odin, started. "You have been brought before the Diar for your crimes against the Nine Realms."

A soft chuckle left her lips, "Crimes against the Realms? Do tell me just what my charges are. Amuse me."

"Your crimes include manipulating of the will of gods, elves, men and giants, sowing discord and dissent, blasphemy, inciting greed and lust, and practicing dark magic."

"I can hardly help the faults hidden away in the hearts of the people," she pointed out. "Every god in this hall harbors dark desires, cloaked with false virtues. I did not place them there, they existed long before I arrived in Asgard."

"Then you do not deny the charges?" the woman in the throne beside Odin asked.

"It is no fault of mine if the member of the gods cannot control themselves, Frigg. And I hold no belief in gods, therefore blasphemy holds no truth. And greed, lust and discord cannot be managed and directed as one would an axe. Your charges hold no weight."

"You provide no evidence to defend yourself," a god with long blonde hair remarked.

"There is nothing to defend myself from, and therefore no need for evidence."

"You plead guilty?" Frigg asked.

Gullveig smirked at the Queen, "Yes, I am guilty of the charges you have provided. Which, essentially, is the same as being guilty of nothing."

"Then, witch, you will be executed for your crimes against the Realms," Odin announced, nodding at Tyr.

The god of war rose from his seat among the other gods and raised his spear. The woman watched him carefully, grinning at him as if sharing a private joke. For an instant, Tyr hesitated in his actions. The god's face went pale and his hand shook almost imperceptibly.

"How far the mighty have fallen if the god of war is reduced to murdering women," she taunted.

A hand fell on the war god's shoulder, and he turned to look into the eyes of Thor. The thunderer nodded once and Tyr returned his attention to his task. He threw the lance, piercing Gullveig through the heart. A surprised gasp, nearly inaudible, fell from her lips as her knees gave out from under her. For a second, she gazed down at the spear protruding from her chest before laughing. She tilted her head back and cackled at the gods watching her. Her fingers slowly encircled its shaft as she made to pull the blade out.

Odin's eyes narrowed from where he sat and, with a wave of his hand, flames engulfed the woman. A scream high enough to break glass pierced the air as she writhed within the flames. The Diar watched as her figure diminished, the flames eating away hungrily. For minutes, the shadow of the woman writhed within the light, her scream falling to a broken sound none of the spectators could place. The disfigured shape that remained of the woman slumped against the cold stone floors. There was one last attempt at movement before the remains of Gullveig fell motionless.

A collective sigh of relief echoed through the hall, but was silenced when one of the ravens on Odin's throne shrieked over the noise. The shape within the fire was moving. The thin creature grew as it stood up. When its head reached over the flames, the Æsir could see the fully healed face of Gullveig. She stepped out of the flames, a simple white gown in place of her armor. The chains that had wrapped around her body were gone, but she did not move from her place directly in front of the pyre. When she spoke, ash was carried on her breath.

"Did you forget your accusations so quickly?" she asked. "I admit to practicing magic, but it is far from dark."

With a single look from Odin, the guards rushed towards her. She did not fight as they gripped her arms, locking new manacles around her wrists. As they dragged her out of the hall, she yelled one last declaration for them to hear.

"You may lock me away, Allfather, but you fail to hide your darkness from me."

The doors slammed shut behind the small group. There was a deafening silence in response to Gullveig's announcement. Many of the gods remained where they were, unable to think what the proper action to pursue next was. At the opposite end of the hall, Odin gazed after them, anger and desire barely hidden in his eyes.


	2. Chapter Two

_**So, chapter 2...Before we start, I think you should know that this story will be told from Loki's PoV, with the exceptions of the flashbacks (e.g. stories of Gullveig's life like the one in the first chapter). Odin seems slightly different in this chapter from the last for a reason. You'll find out why soon enough. I hope you all enjoy!**_

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Laughter and the low rumble of people conversing echoed through the grand ballroom of Odin's palace, Valaskjálf. The light of the chandeliers hanging high above the guests cast a golden glow on everything found within the silver walls. Men and women in their best dress cluttered the large room. Most had sun-kissed skin and red or blonde hair. Almost all were enjoying themselves.

In the far end, standing just to the side of Hlidskjalf, the throne of the Allfather, there was a man very different from the rest. He was a good deal taller than the rest with skin as pale as ivory and auburn hair that clung to the back of his neck. To those who didn't know better, his stillness and sharply chiseled features caused him to look as if he had been carved from stone. His bright green eyes scanned over the crowd carefully. It would be his duty to break up any fights that broke out among the guests, a sadly common occurrence.

"It is a fine celebration, is it not, Loki?" the one-eyed king chuckled, nudging the man to his right and causing him to jump.

"It is indeed, my Lord Odin," he replied automatically, too used to the questions always asked of him.

"Cheer up, Silver-tongue! All goes well and you are free to join the festivities. Have a drink, dance with someone, be merry!"

He grimaced as Odin's ale sloshed out of its stein and onto his freshly polished boots. It was always this way. When there was trouble in Asgard, he was called upon to clean up the Æsir's mess. If something went wrong, he was the source of it. But when there was nothing to blame on him, they all wished to be pleasant and courteous towards him. He was either the terrible god of chaos or the entertaining god of mischief. There was no discernable mid-point between the two for the gods.

Halfway through his brooding, a flash of gold amongst the crowd caught his eye. As it happened, the gold was not a piece of stray jewelry or a strip of fabric. Though the woman he saw was wearing a bright golden necklace, it was not what had caught his eye. He could not recognize this woman, despite knowing each and every member of Odin's court in case of emergencies or boredom.

This woman had long curls a shade darker than the skies at midnight and skin almost as pale as his. She was thinner and slightly taller than most Æsir women, as well. Her dress, which would be considered scandalously revealing to the rest, consisted of several layers of sheer material in an appealing shade of cerulean blue. Though her angular features seemed to demand the attention of the onlooker, it was her piercing eyes that truly drew in all that looked upon her. They were the exact shade of white wine under candlelight.

Loki had never seen such a strange hue for eyes. Æsir often had blue or gray eyes, brown was common among the elves of both Light and Dark descent, obsidian was the color of the dwarves, Jotunns had a mix of green and brown eyes, and the mortals of Midgard had as many varieties as possible. But he had not heard of a race with eyes as gold as the jewels that adorned their necks.

As he watched her make her way through the crowds, he realized she did not look especially pleased with the atmosphere. And so, telling himself that it would be disobeying his king if he did not, Loki decided he would approach her and see what he could do to lift her spirits. It was his job, after all, to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves. If he didn't, Odin would never let him here the end of it.

"I think I very may well take your advice, my King," he mumbled as he walked away from the throne and down the few steps that elevated the throne.

Pushing gently through the people who danced and wandered across the room, Loki kept his eyes trained on the mystery woman. There was something about her that held his interest, a feat very seldom achieved. She was appealing to the eye, but it was more than that. Perhaps it was the fact that he could not recognize her. He snatched two crystal goblets of ale from one of the servants' trays and cleared his throat lightly to get her attention.

"Care for a drink, milady?" he asked, offering her one of the glasses

Her golden eyes scanned over him as she took it, "Thank you, my Lord."

"I cannot help but notice you seem less than pleased with the festivities," he noted nonchalantly.

"I could say the same for you."

He faltered slightly, caught off guard by her more than correct assumption. Her eyes flashed with amusement at his surprise but her expression remained stoic.

"What causes you to say that?"

The very edges of her lips quirked up, "Let us leave it at I am very adept at guessing what people feel in their heart but hide from others' eyes."

"As it is, I concede. I am not overly fond of these parties Odin finds enjoyment in. But what reason does a beautiful maiden such as yourself have to not find merriment among this crowd?"

"My, my," she said with a slightly feral grin. "I never knew King Odin surrounded himself with men of such well-oiled tongues. Your words are as pleasant as silk, quite possibly the most eloquent I have heard in many a year, but neither new nor noteworthy for me."

Loki allowed himself a wry smile, "Then I shall endeavor to be as original as my imagination allows."

She took a slow, thoughtful sip of her ale before answering, "And what, may I ask, causes such an interest in me that you should trouble yourself so?"

"I loathe watching a lovely woman suffer through boredom."

The woman laughed softly, the sound melodic and smooth. Loki watched as her eyes closed for an instant during the outburst and he was allowed a detailed glimpse of the dark fringe of lashes that brushed against her high cheekbones.

"And the flattery continues. What is your name, my Lord?"

He gave a careful bow with a flourish of his wrist, "Loki of Jotunheim, at your service."

She raised her eyebrows, "Surely not Loki the silver-tongued trickster."

"I am afraid so, milady," he said with a smirk. "Might I be privileged with your name?"

Her lips parted ever so slightly as she made to answer, but stopped when her strange eyes fell on something just over his shoulder. The smile on her face melted away and her attention returned to him.

"I fear I must be going," the woman said, her voice and stance tense. "Perhaps we may speak again at another time. It was a pleasure, Lord Loki."

Without another word, she turned from him and walked into the ever-shifting crowds. His face fell slightly, head turning to glance over his shoulder at whatever could have scared her off so easily. He saw nothing out of the ordinary and returned his attention to where the woman had gone. But she was no longer in sight. Loki gazed out into the masses, wondering just who she had been.

One thing was certain, however: he wasn't about to forget about the one woman he couldn't name. There wasn't a chance in Niflheim of him simply letting the matter go.


End file.
